


The Magic in your Head

by ALittleBitofThis



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blackmail, Forced Self-harm, Partial Mind Control, Self-Harm, Sorcerers, Torture, Whump, heed the tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-11
Packaged: 2020-02-29 18:31:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALittleBitofThis/pseuds/ALittleBitofThis
Summary: Peter opens his mouth. He needs help. They don’t know that he-‘Don’t tell them.’ The voice in his head, apparently Elijah, says. Peter’s breath catches in his throat. ‘If you break an order beyond repair, the pain will intensify until it kills you.’---After defeating one of Strange's enemies, Peter is temporarily taken captive. They get him back, and life goes on as normal- or so they think. Peter soon learns that the evil sorcerer left him with more than just painful memories. Unable to talk about the issue directly, Peter must find a way to communicate what's happen before he kills himself, or worse, someone else. Heed the Tags. (Slight spoiler) This has forced self-harm as a result of sorta mind control/blackmail. Peter's not suicidal here.





	The Magic in your Head

The magical cloud above New York dispels in a burst of magic, and little flecks of it rain down on the streets. The Avengers surround the evil sorcerer, who’s eyeing Strange angrily.

“You gave it your best shot, Snape” Iron Man teases, making fun of his black hair and black robes.

“You’ll regret that, Doctor,” He snarls at Strange. Captain America adjusts his grip on his shield, ready to throw it if need be.

“I’m sure I will,” Strange responds sarcastically. “Elijah Stone, you’re now under arrest for-“

“You took away my plan-- my baby. I’ll take one of yours!” yells. Before they can stop him, he flicks his hand, and Iron Man flies into Strange, stunning him. Elijah swivels his head and looks directly at Spider-Man, who’s standing on a car. Black Widow sees the shift and sprints for the teenager, but she isn’t fast enough. A portal opens behind him and before Peter can web away, he’s blasted back through it.

“To-“ Peter’s voice disappears when he goes through the portal. Captain America flings his shield at Elijah, but its path magically shifts and nearly hits Natasha, stopping her from reaching the car before the portal closes. When she turns to attack the sorcerer, he’s already going through a portal of his own. Black Widow throws a knife and it does go through the portal, but it misses its target. Iron Man and Doctor Strange are back up now.

“Where’d he go?!” Strange demands. Black Widow looks away from Iron Man, not wanting to break the news.

“He went through a portal,” Steve reports. “And he… he took Peter.” Even through the armor, Steve can see Tony’s body go rigid.

“ _ Fuck _ ! We need to find him! Strange!” Tony turns to the sorcerer.

“We’ll start looking immediately,” Strange promises.

* * *

Despite the burst of wind that shoved him backwards, Spider-Man manages to twist himself in midair and does a handspring, coming to rest in a crouch. He leaps for the portal, but it’s gone before he reaches it, and he hits the ground instead. He hears another whoosh, and Elijah Stone is with him. They’re alone in a circular lobby where everything is gray and stone and dreary. Definitely an evil lair.

“Where are we?” Peter demands. He shoots a web at Elijah, but the web stops in mid-air. Spider-Man huffs in frustration and charges at the sorcerer instead. Chains appear in front of him, and Peter can’t stop his momentum, so he just runs right into them. The force with which the chains stop him is like he hit a wall, and they snap around him so tightly that it’s hard to breathe. His back slams into the ground, and as much as he struggles, the chains refuse to move an inch, as if it’s a cage attached firmly to the floor.

“Let me go!” Spider-Man shouts. He leans his body into the ground and bucks up as hard as he can against the chains, but they don’t break. Okay. Okay, Peter. Calm, deep breaths. You can do this. “What do you want?”

“Just some good old-fashioned revenge,” Elijah says calmly, looking down at his new charge. He squats down by his head, and Peter stills, not wanting to show any fear.

“This is an interesting chain of events,” Spider-Man jokes quietly, keeping his voice as steady as possible. The sorcerer’s lips grow into a smile.

* * *

Spider-Man yelps when the magical whip hits him again, and it feels like fire. He struggles to his hands and knees- the chains left him half an hour ago, once he stopped resisting- but the whip snaps again, landing right on his spine. He falls back to his stomach, rolling onto his back and tossing his arms up just in time to stop the next blow from hitting his face. He can feel the skin on his arms burn with the heat.

The suit is doing its best to protect him. The super-heated whip hasn’t broken through, but the heat of it still burns him through the fabric. The mask was ripped off long ago though, so if there’s anything Peter needs to protect, it’s his face. Another crack and a burst of pain comes from his stomach, causing Peter’s knees to come up to his chest on pure instinct.

“Stop!” Peter cries, voice hoarse from screaming, and to his relief, Elijah does. Peter watches nervously as he approaches.

“Had enough yet?” He asks. Peter doesn’t respond directly, spewing out thoughts while he tries to think of a good response.

“If you keep going, you’ll fry me like the Emperor in Star Wars,” Peter grasps onto the warm thought of Star Wars movies to keep him grounded. He decides a non-answer is the best move. “Why are you doing this?”

“I already told you.”

“But-,” Peter hesitates, not wanting to give him any ideas. “Why don’t you just kill me?”

“ _ Oh _ ,” The villain's voice is so soft, so sympathetic, that it actually scares the kid even more. “I’m not going to kill you.”

“They’ll find me,” Peter argues, more reassuring himself than the sorcerer. As long as he stays alive, he’ll be okay. The Avengers can heal him.

“I’m sure they will,” Elijah shrugs.

“Then  _ why _ are you hurting me?”

“Because it’s much easier to deal with people who are broken down,” Elijah explains. “It looks like we’re not there yet though.”

Peter clenches his eyes out and breathes out through his nose. He waits for the next blow, but he doesn’t hear the whip again.

“I think we’ll change it up. The Emperor, you said? He has lightning hands, I believe. Fantastic idea.” 

Peter’s heart skips a beat. No, no, no! That’s not what he-- Peter screams in pain when the electricity hits him, and as his body goes rigid, he knows it’s not getting better anytime soon.

* * *

An hour later, Peter’s stopped making noise, lying on the ground and taking the hits. He assumes his captor has gotten bored, because soon after he stops moving, the blows stop coming. The relent should bring him relief, but instead, it just allows his body to acknowledge all of its pain, leaving him as one big, throbbing mess. He hears speaking distantly, but it sounds like gibberish, so he ignores it. A minute later, feet appear in his vision.

“Get up,” Elijah orders. Peter stares up at him. He can’t. Everything hurts. His stomach twists, and he wants to vomit. He doesn’t want to obey, but maybe getting to his feet will give him some adrenaline to escape. Elijah conjures a ball of magic in his hand, and Peter doesn’t know how, but he finds the strength to get to his feet. He sways slightly, but as his heart pounds, he does feel a little better.

He does his best to stay upright as Elijah slowly walks away from him. Spider-Man thinks about running for him… getting a hit in while he’s not looking. But the man has finally stopped hitting him, and he’s afraid to make him start again. Elijah sweeps the knife that Black Widow threw off the ground and returns to Peter. He tenses, but he isn’t stabbed like he expects. Instead, Elijah grabs his wrist and pushes the hilt into his hand.

“What-“ Peter stares at the blade in his hand in confusion. Why would he give him a weapon? Elijah doesn’t move further away, as if he somehow knows that Peter isn’t going to try and attack him. Peter wants to, but he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Stab yourself.”

“What?!” Peter squeaks.

“Stab yourself,” Elijah repeats, as calmly as ever. He gently takes the boy’s hand and shifts it so the blade faces his stomach.

“Why would I do that?” Peter asks, eyes wide. Why doesn’t Elijah just stab him himself? He doesn’t think he can hurt himself even if he want to. He’s anxious at the mere thought, and it makes his insides twist again. He feels sick the longer he stands there, the tip of the blade just inches from his stomach. Elijah waits patiently, and Peter’s half-expecting him to just shove his arm forward at any point now. But the man doesn’t move. Just gazes into the wide eyes trying to figure it all out.

“No,” Peter protests. He feels sicker the longer he stands, and he’s starting to regret getting up in the first place. He should drop the knife to make a point, but instead, his grip tightens in an effort to divert the pain inside of him. He feels his legs going, and he falls to his hands and knees. He’s so, so nauseous.

Peter actually throws up then, and he expects to feel better, but he doesn’t. It still hurts. And all his brain is shouting at him is  _ pain. Pain. Pain! _ Tears stream out of his eyes, and he just wants the pain to go away.

He doesn’t know why he does that he does next. Maybe it’s insanity. Maybe it’s a twitch. Maybe it’s just a desperate hope to feel pain somewhere other than his entire body. Somehow he thinks more pain will distract him from his other pain, and before he can stop it, the blade is pressing into his stomach.

He feels it break the suit first, and then the skin. He feels it move past the first layer of muscle and puncture his stomach with a disgusting squish. Before long, the hilt connects with his bone, and it’s all the way in. Peter gasps with both pain and relief. All he can think about now is that one spot where the knife is. It hurts, but at least it’s localized. He gently lolls to the side, keeping his hands wrapped tightly around the blade. When the pain tries to expand through his body again, he wriggles it, refocusing the nerves on his stomach.

“Good boy. Now-“ Elijah pauses, looking past Peter as if he sees something. His face changes. “Nevermind. It appears we’re out of time.”

Peter can’t respond, but his mouth opens as the sorcerer backs away from him. His lips are moving, but Peter can’t make out what he’s saying. His lips pause and then begin again, conjuring magical weapons. A few moments later, the Avengers come barreling through a portal, attacking him. Tony takes one look at Peter, lying on the ground with a torn-up suit and a blade in his abdomen, and he’s overcome with rage. He charges at Elijah Stone.

“Peter!” Natasha sprints to him, rolling him onto his back. She puts her hands over his, mistakenly assuming that his knuckles are white with his grip because he’s trying to keep the pressure on the wound. She thinks that the subtle twitching of his hand is because of blood loss, not because he’s trying to hurt himself more to distract himself.

“It’s okay, baby spider. We’ll have you out of here soon,” She promises, and Peter’s lips twitch at the nickname. He calls her Mama spider in his head. Clint’s here now, and Hawkeye stands between them and the sorcerer to shield the pair from the raging battle. It’s a few short minutes before all the noises stop. Strange and Cap agree to take Elijah to the raft, while the rest of the team deals with Peter. Tony gets there, demasking.

“Pete!” He drops to his knees and pulls Peter’s head into his lap. Peter sees Clint returning with a stretcher, and he breathes out a sigh of relief. He’s safe now. “Wait, wait, wait! Pete, don’t pass-“

* * *

Peter wakes up in the med bay, and he’s only mildly surprised to see that his stomach has healed. Helen must’ve been here. No one’s around, and from the looks of it, it’s the next morning. He can smell breakfast. Peter swings his feet to the side of the bed, and he tentatively sets his feet on the floor. His stomach aches, but it’s manageable.

The door automatically slides open for him, and he puts a hand against the wall for support as he walks towards the kitchen. His ears pick up voices long before he gets there, but when he finally appears in the doorway, it takes a moment for anyone to notice him.

“Peter!” Tony drops his tablet on the counter and runs towards him. “What are you doing out of bed?”

“Smelled breakfast,” Peter shrugs. Tony looks concerned.

“You could’ve just asked Friday to tell us you were awake,” Tony reminds. Peter just shrugs again, and Tony frowns. He grabs Peter’s arm, helping him to the couch so he can lay down. Natasha’s there a moment later, handing him a heaping plate of food.

“You’ve been out for about a day and a half. Knowing your metabolism, you’re starving,” Tony says. Everyone in the room knows that, including Peter, but it doesn’t keep the billionaire from taking his eyes off the kid until he starts eating. The rest of the Avengers filter in and out of the living/eating area throughout the morning, and they’re halfway through their third movie when Peter hears it.

_ ‘Drink the Cleaning Supplies _ .’ Peter blinks. What?

_ ‘Drink cleaning supplies. _ ’ His head repeats. Peter glances around at the other Avengers, trying to figure out if one of them or the movie said it. They’re all watching the tv. It’s just Clint, Natasha, and Bruce in the room with him. No one else. Peter decides it’s just his imagination and refocuses on their movie.

However, his stomach starts to ache, so he grabs his water bottle and drinks what remains. It doesn’t seem to help much as his insides churn. Weird. He sets the bottle down, and his stomach starts to feel knotted and twisted. He shifts uncomfortably.

He closes his eyes, and it doesn’t stop. The pain just amplifies, and he feels it spreading throughout his body. This kind of buzzing feeling moves up to his chest and around his neck, threatening to choke him as it turns to move of a prickling feeling. His stomach throbs in pain suddenly, and Peter gasps. Natasha glances his way but dismisses it as something that happened in the fight scene the movie has going on. Peter tries to ignore the pain. He really does. But it becomes unbearable.

Before he knows it, he’s on his feet, stumbling towards the kitchen. He needs to distract himself: everything hurts! Natasha turns her head to watch him, but she assumes he’s getting more water, so she looks back to the screen. That is, until she hears a cabinet closing. Peter doesn’t need a cabinet to get water. Natasha turns around again and her heart drops. Peter’s chugging  _ Windex _ .

“PETER!” Natasha screams. She sprints towards him, actually vaulting over the kitchen counter to get there faster. She rips the bottle from his grip. He tries to reach for it, but she’s holding him back with one hand while she pours the rest in the sink.

“What the hell?!” Clint asks as he and Bruce join them. Peter’s crying, but he realizes something. The pain in his body is gone. It stopped as soon as he started drinking. Everything snaps into place, and it makes sense. It’s why he stood up and why he stabbed himself. It hurts if he doesn’t do what Elijah wants.

“Why would you do that?!” Natasha asks. She drops the now empty bottle and cups his face in her hands. Peter opens his mouth. He needs help. They don’t know that he-

‘ _ Don’t tell them.’ _ The voice in his head, apparently Elijah, says. Peter’s breath catches in his throat. ‘ _ If you break an order beyond repair, the pain will intensify until it kills you. _ ’

Peter doesn’t say anything, and he doesn’t have time to anyway. The effects of the windex are setting in. His mouth and his throat burn as the chemicals claw at his tissue, and he suddenly realizes it’s hard to breathe. It only takes one gasp from the now-red-faced teenager before Bruce realizes what’s happening.

“Shit!” Bruce pushes Natasha back and grabs Peter’s shoulders. The kid already looks dazed. “Clint, grab milk!”

“What?”

“Just do it!” Bruce orders. Clint grabs it out of the fridge, screws off the cap, and grabs Peter’s face. Peter’s already leaning against the counter for support from the dizziness that’s slammed his body, and he protests when Bruce brings the container to his lips.

“Burns,” Peter gasps. His stomach begins to hurt as the solution reaches it.

“Trust me. It’ll keep you from absorbing it,” Bruce says sharply. Peter doesn’t want to, but Natasha grabs his jaw, and Peter jolts as Bruce forces him to drink the milk. He coughs a bit, but has no choice but to swallow. He eventually gets about a cup down, and Bruce pulls back so he can breathe- try to breathe, at least. Peter tries to take a step, but he’s tilting, and Clint catches him.

“Nat, call Strange!” Bruce says. Clint is already gathering Peter in his arms and hurrying towards the med bay. As they get through the doorway, Strange is coming in through a portal, rushing to meet them.

“What happened?”

“He drank windex,” Bruce reports, and Stephen’s eyes widen.

“Why?” Strange reaches for an IV as Clint sets Peter on the bed.

“We have no idea,” Clint growls. A wheeze from Peter interrupts their conversation, and Doctor Strange turns to him, grabbing his arm tightly to push the IV in.

“I gave him some milk,” Bruce tells him, and Strange nods in approval.

“I brought the rest with me,” Nat says as she joins them.

“Get him to drink a little more,” Strange says. They grab Peter again, and he whines in protest, but they make him drink a couple more ounces before he starts coughing, tears leaking from his eyes.

“Sorry, kid. It’s going to help you,” Strange puts a reassuring hand on his arm, but Peter just wheezes again, coughing up some of the milk he hadn’t swallowed yet. He heaves, grabbing onto Strange’s wrist. He can’t breathe. His throat feels like it’s closing in on him.

“Banner. Ventilator,” Strange commands. Peter flinches at the word. He hates those. Bruce comes back, and Peter is already struggling. It takes all four adults to hold him still enough, and they’re just lucky he’s too weak to fight them at full strength. Strange manages to get the tube into his mouth and down his throat, besides Peter’s cries of protest.

Once it’s in, they switch on the ventilator, and Peter’s body sags in relief at the oxygen. He quiets a bit. It still hurts- his mouth and his throat and his stomach all radiate pain, but he’s not suffocating anymore. He shifts, but the tube rubs against his burned esophagus, and he gasps. He stares up at Strange, desperately trying to communicate how much he  _ hates _ this tube.

“I know. I know, sorry,” Strange runs a hand through his hair. Peter squirms in pain, and Natasha grabs a towel, trying to wipe away some of the milk spilled onto his chin and sweat beading his forehead. Peter’s messy, but so is the situation, so no one dares comment on it. Strange grabs a washcloth, trying to wash around his lips to get rid of any lingering ammonia.

“What happened?!” Tony announces his presence in a booming voice, and Peter actually flinches. It just jostles the tube in his throat again, and he squeaks. He looks away guiltily, and Natasha sets a hand on his bicep as the others explain what happened. Tears continue to roll down Peter’s face. What’s he going to do?

* * *

“I’m not suicidal,” Peter says, but it doesn’t look like May’s going to believe him. He curls his fingers into the white bedsheets.

“Kinda hard to believe when you drank Windex, kid,” Tony chimes, and Peter breathes out shakily.

“Why did you do it?” May asks, and Peter feels his heart ache at the sound of brokenness in her voice. He can’t tell them. He knows he can’t. So he just shrugs. They keep asking him questions, but he can’t respond to either of his parent figures, and he hates it. He hates everything right now. After 5 minutes, they give up.

“Thanks for taking care of him,” May turns to Tony. He sets a hand on her shoulder.

“Of course. We’re going to make sure someone’s with him at all times,” Tony promises.

They’re true to their word, and Peter is a little annoyed that he’s passed between the Avengers like a puppy as they change shifts, but he does appreciate it, deep down. He can’t hurt himself too badly if they’re there, right? At least, he thinks so.

Peter’s in the living room with Thor and Steve, and things are calm for once. He’s just doing homework that his teachers sent. However, it’s been a few days since the Windex incident, and Peter was foolish enough to believe it was all over with. That same voice drifts into his head, and he knows it isn’t his own. He listens to it, and he tenses.

“No,” He says, out loud. Both adults look at him questioningly and he covers it up. “I messed up a problem on my homework.”

The voice continues to speak to him, and he tries to ignore it, but his stomach is twisting, and he knows what’s coming. Why?! Why, why, why?! Why him? Why does he keep having to do stuff like this? He sneaks glances at Steve and Thor. Thor is reading a history book that Tony gave him to understand Earth better, and Steve, who  _ definitely _ doesn’t need a history book, is doing crosswords. He doesn’t want to do this.

Peter feels a pang of mixed guilt and nausea in his stomach, and the longer he waits, the more his body hurts. But if he does this, everything’s going to hurt anyway, so he tries to wait it out. A couple minutes later, he’s doing everything in his power not to squirm as his insides burn with fire. He won’t- he won’t- he won’t.

Damn it! Peter drops his pencil, letting it roll under the clear, glass coffee table. He painfully rolls off the couch, crawling towards it. He wedges under the table, using his feet to pull him under as he lies on his back.

“What are you doing, Peter?” Steve asks suspiciously.

“Dropped my pencil,” Peter lies between grit teeth, and he thanks the world that Steve is bad at telling when people are lying. His fingers grasp the pencil, and he starts to pull back out, but he’s already there. Mjolnir is resting on the table directly above him. His breath hitches.

“...Peter?” Steve asks again. He’s setting his crossword aside, and both adults are eyeing him carefully. Peter shuts his eyes. Now or never. He doesn’t want to, but his entire body is riddled with pain and he needs, needs,  _ needs _ it to go away.

“Wait. Wai-“ Steve realizes what he’s doing too late. Peter’s fist hits the glass, causing it to shatter. Thor shoots out his hand to call Mjolnir, but the hammer can’t react fast enough.

Peter screeches in pain as it slams into his chest, and he can hear the cracks of his bones. The weight of not being worthy crushes his chest, and it’s probably only because Thor called it that it doesn’t kill him. He kept it from driving straight through his body.

“Peter!” Steve rushes to his side, and Peter is already heaving, trying to get air in. He can’t breathe. He can barely breathe at all. Thor drops Mjolnir on the couch, rushing off to get Strange. Cap stares down at their youngest Avenger, and both of their eyes have fear in them as Peter passes out.

* * *

10 broken ribs, 3 fractured ones, a broken sternum, and  _ two _ punctured lungs. It took six hours of surgery with Strange directing a whole team of surgeons to save his life. If he didn’t have his powers, Peter would’ve died.

As he lies in his hospital bed, he can feel the consistent ache of his chest. Even with the enhanced healing, he’ll be in bed for a week, so he may as well get used to it. At least here he can’t do too much to hurt himself.

There’s always an Avenger with him, but barely any of them speak. They don’t know what to say, and Peter doesn’t know either. He lets out a painful breath, closing his eyes briefly. He opens them and looks down at his chest, bringing his fingers to brush over his wealth of stitches.

“Peter,” Natasha warns quietly, and Peter pulls his hand away, avoiding her gaze. Even though he doesn’t know what to say, the silence kills him. He’s so used to the noise of everyday life, but the medical bay is soundproofed specifically to keep him from overstimulation, so all he can hear is Natasha’s breathing and pulse and the steady beeps and clicks of the medical machines. It’s disturbing. After another frustrated sigh from the teenager, Natasha folds her hands in her lap.

“You wanna talk?” She asks. Peter doesn’t say anything, but she waits patiently. After a long moment, he considers how to phrase it. He needs help. He knows that. However, Elijah’s voice is back.

_ ‘If you so much as even hint at it…’ _ Elijah warns. Peter winces, and he shifts on the bed, trying to roll onto his side. It doesn’t quite work. There’s got to be some way he can tell her…

_ ‘Don’t think about it,’ _ The voice snaps. Peter naturally thinks more about it when told not to, but his stomach grumbles in protest, so he tries to shove it out of his mind. He closes his eyes and walks himself through the first scene of Star Wars: A New Hope to distract himself. He latches onto every detail he remembers, managing to keep the pain at bay even as Natasha’s disappointed sigh interrupts him. He keeps moving through the movie, and he eventually falls asleep.

* * *

When he wakes up, Thor is there. The god is slouched in a chair, writing on a notepad of sorts. Peter sneaks a glance before staring up at the ceiling. He hopes the command of not thinking about this condition has worn off, but his stomach twinges at the mere question of it, so he struggles to focus on the soft scratching of graphite against paper.

‘ _ You’re back, _ ’ Elijah coos, and Peter bites his lip. Go away, he thinks.

‘ _ No… I don’t think I will. If anything, your pain medication should go away.’ _ Elijah’s commands come across like mere thoughts, but Peter swears he can  _ feel _ the amusement. He understands the instructions. The pain in his chest can’t be worse than what happens when he doesn’t listen. Thor isn’t looking at him.

I hate you, Peter thinks as he reaches across to his other arm. He quietly pulls the tape away from his skin, and he slides the IV out of the crook of his elbow. A steady bead of blood is already forming.

‘ _ I’m glad. Now, cut yourself up. Just on that side. Don’t forget the veins.’ _ Elijah says sweetly. Peter grits his teeth, sneaking another glance at Thor. Why?!

Peter bites his lip and takes the IV needle, dragging it down his forearm. It leaves a perfect line in its midst, and several more join it as his hand moves around. He slits the vein on his wrist, watching with morbid curiosity as the blood flows out. He tilts the needle and pushes it deeper, but he lets out a small hiss on accident. Thor looks up, eyes widening.

“Parker!” He grabs the teenager’s clean wrist, and Peter knows he doesn’t have the physical prowess to fight back, so he lets it drop back to his side. Neither of them speak as Thor moves to his other side, grabbing the bloodied arm. He’s… not quite sure what to do. He doesn’t bleed very often so…

So it’s a relief when Stark comes in for a shift change. He swears quietly when he sees Peter’s arm, and Peter’s face burns with shame. He didn’t want to do it. No more words are spoken except for Tony telling Thor he can leave, and Tony disinfects and wraps the arm up tightly. Peter looks away the whole time, not wanting to face the worry that he knows will be covering Mr.Stark’s face.

“What’s going on with you, Pete?” Tony asks desperately. No response comes. “What the hell did Stone do to you?” He doesn’t know what would make his kid want to hurt himself, and honestly, he doesn’t think he’ll ever really  _ want _ to know.

Peter opens his mouth, and Tony looks up hopefully, but the boy’s stomach gives a sharp pain, and his mouth snaps shut. Tony sags, backing away to sit in a chair. He needs to call in some help.

* * *

“Peter, this is Dr.Havana,” Tony introduces. Peter tilts his head a little, taking in the woman’s stature. She’s tall and slim, wearing clothes that look soft, but still professional. Her hair is pulled back into a too-perfect bun, and she gives him a warm smile.

“Hi,” Peter says hesitantly. He lifts his uninjured arm, and she shakes his hand, careful not to jostle his chest. Peter looks at Tony questioningly.

“Dr.Havana worked with Shield’s psychological department,” Tony explains. Peter frowns. He knows where this is going.

“You can call me Charlotte,” the woman chimes. Peter curls his fingers into the sheets. “What would you like me to call-“

“Can I have a minute with Mr.Stark?” Peter interrupts. If there’s any hurt in her face, it’s quickly hidden, and she softly utters an apology before leaving the room. “Mr.Stark-“

“Pete, Stop. I know.”

“You got me a therapist?” Peter stares at him. “I  _ told _ you. I’m not suicidal!”

“I know, Bud, I know,” Tony reassures, quickly grabbing hold of his good hand. “I just don’t want you to hurt yourself anymore. It’s okay to open up to someone. She can help you.”

“You don’t believe me,” Peter sighs, looking away from him.

“Peter,  _ please _ . I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on! Whatever it is, we’ll work through it together, okay? I promise. No matter what he did to you!” Tony’s practically begging at this point, but Peter won’t even respond. He just stares at the floor so hard that his eyes burn. He wants to tell Tony. He really does. But even thinking about telling Tony causes the pain to ebb at his senses again, giving him that threat. He can’t tell him. He’ll die.

“Just give her a few minutes of your time, please?” Tony sets a hand on his head, rubbing his thumb into Peter’s hair. Peter shuts his eyes, leaning into the touch.

“Okay.” Peter hears Tony sigh of relief.

“I’ll be outside if you need me. You know the room is soundproof, so no one will hear unless you want them to. Just tell Friday if you want me.”

“Okay.”

Tony leaves the room, and Peter hears some hushed whispers between the two adults, but he can’t quite make it out. Dr.Havana- no, Charlotte- comes back in, and she settles herself in the seat next to Peter’s bed, folding her hands in his lap.

“Hi Peter,” She says softly. Peter nods in acknowledgment, unsure of what to say- unsure of what he  _ can _ say. No instructions are coming to him, and when the thoughts cross his mind, there’s no pain, so he can at least  _ think _ about the curse.

“Do you want to tell me anything?” She asks. Peter hesitates, and then nods. No pain. Yet.

“What do you want to tell me?” She pushes. Peter shrugs, looking away. He knows… he just can’t. He hears her shift.

“What’s been going on? Tony tells me you keep getting hurt,” Charlotte says.

"That’s one way to put it,” Peter mumbles.

“And how would you put it?” Charlotte asks. Peter feels that warning twinge in his gut as he formulates an answer.

“I wouldn’t,” He answers painfully. She looks at him for a moment, before laying her pen down on her clipboard.

“Okay… just tell me about you then,” She concedes. Peter relaxes. Yeah… he can do that.

“Well… I-I’m Spider-Man. I mean- you probably already knew that, but… yeah,” He stammers. She laughs, and it calms him down some.

“What’s your favorite thing about it?” Peter perks up the question.

“I just… I love helping people. When you help someone find something, or when you make sure someone gets home safe? That little smile of thanks? That’s the best best thing in the world. That’s what I love about it,” Peter can’t help but smile as he thinks of all the people he’s helped.

_ Aw, how cute _ , Elijah chimes, and Peter scowls. Charlotte cocks her head.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Peter says quickly. Go away! Get out of my head! He thinks to Elijah. There’s no response. He tries to refocus on Charlotte, who’s looking at him in concern.

“Did something happen to Spider-Man lately? You can tell me about it, even if it’s not good,” She urges. Peter breath starts to get trapped in his throat, choking him so he can’t speak, but also not letting him show any signs of trouble.

_ ‘I don’t like her _ ,’ Elijah says. So? Peter asks. ‘ _ Get rid of her.’ _ Peter swallows, wondering how.

_ ‘Yell at her- go ballistic- no signs to them as to why.’ _ Peter swallows thickly.

“Can you go away?” Peter asks, hoping she’ll make this easy. She doesn’t.

“I’m here for  _ you _ , Peter. I want to help you,” She insists. Peter’s stomach twists painfully, and it feels like a kettle set to burst.

“ _ Go!” _ Peter growls. She’s hurting him. She needs to listen.  _ You gotta be mean, Peter _ , Elijah says when she doesn’t move. Peter grits his teeth. “Go! Get the fuck out of here!” When she still doesn’t shift, he lashes out with his hand, knocking her clipboard to the floor. She stands up to grab it.

“Leave!” Peter yells, but she still isn’t leaving, and he gives a cry that’s a mixture of pain and anger. “Get the fuck out of here before I- before I-“ he struggles for words, and she puts a hand on his shoulder. The curse causes it to hurt where she touches, and his reflex is to shove her back, knocking her into the sidetable. The guilt slaps Peter in the face, and Friday must’ve told Tony, because a second later, Mr.Stark is rushing in.

“Get out!” Peter screams, and Charlotte looks up at him with fear. Tony is by her side, helping her to her feet. She clutches at her side, and Tony tells her to wait outside. He looks to Peter as she leaves. The teenager’s eyes are wide, and he’s breathing heavily, his face morphed in pain.

“Oh Pete-“ Tony surges forward, pulling the kid into a hug. Peter’s body still aches, and so does his chest, but he clutches onto Tony’s shirt, letting his head be tucked under Tony’s chin. The man strokes his hair as he holds him close, waiting for him to calm down, and Peter leans into it gratefully.

‘ _ Nuh uh uh,’ _ Elijah cuts in.  _ ‘No comfort for you. Tell him to go, or I’ll make you kill him.’ _ Peter’s eyes widen.

“No!” He pushes Tony away from him, and the man stumbles back, surprised.

“What?” Tony asks.

“Get away! Go!” Peter yells, tears welling up in his eyes. Tony comes closer to calm him, and Peter grabs the cup from his sidetable, chucking it at him. Tony stops it from hitting his face, but water spills all over him.

“I don’t under-“

“Get out!” Peter screams.  _ Let me stop. Let me stop, please, _ Peter begs Elijah. _ Make it stop. It hurts. _

_ ‘Fine. Get him out and kick over the vital monitor so they can’t get your readings, and I’ll stop making you hurt them.’ _

Peter nods, and Tony doesn’t know to who, but then the kid is reaching for an apple on his side table. Tony’s surprised at the anger, especially when Peter’s other arm- the one that he sliced open- swings to his left and knocks the vital stand over, causing a loud flatlining sound to fill the room. “I said, LEAVE!!!” Peter screeches, and he’s so relieved when Tony actually listens.

Tony doesn’t want to go, but he doesn’t want the kid to hurt himself, and he’s about to with whatever mania is running through his head. He and Strange need to talk again.

* * *

The Avengers’ shifts continue, but Tony hasn’t come to see him, and no one brings up the psychologist. Roughly a week after the last incident, Bruce and Strange inform Peter that he can  _ carefully _ move about the compound if he so wishes. He still hasn’t seen Tony, so Nat seems to be his primary caretaker for the time being. May still has work, and Peter fears her absence has to do with him breaking her heart.

One night, Natasha is settling him into his room. They’ve let Friday take over to an extent, alerting the team if he wakes up after he’s put to sleep. Peter’s chest is doing better, so it waking him up in the middle of the night is no longer a valid excuse.

Nat is sitting on the edge of his bed, telling him a story about a mission she and Clint went on before they joined the Avengers. Peter listens, letting her voice ease him deeper into tiredness, and the fact that her voice has taken on a dream-like quality causes him not to really  _ hear _ the voice until it repeats itself. Natasha is getting up to leave.

_ ‘Kill her, Peter,’ _ Elijah commands. Peter tenses, and his heartbeat immediately picks up. No. Please… no… hurting himself is one thing… but others… he- he can’t. The pain starts in his chest this time, working it’s way outwards quickly. His window is closing as Natasha reaches the door, and a whimper is what stops her.

“Pete?”

“Can you get me my backpack?” Peter points to the bag at his desk, trying to hide the shaking of his hand. No. He can’t kill her. He’d kill himself first, if he got the chance. He can choke himself instead.

_ ‘You won’t have the chance _ ,’ Elijah laughs in his head as Natasha returns to his bed in the corner of the room. Natasha is handing him his backpack now, and Peter unzips the secret compartment, to his web shooters. He only puts one on, switching the settings to what it needs. His body burns with fire. He’s taking too long and it needs, needs to stop or he’s gonna puke.

Peter swings his hand up towards his mouth, to web  _ himself _ before he can do any harm, but his muscle siezes up, and a muscle twitch from his possessed nervous system pulls the trigger. Peter yelps as the shot goes off, and Nat is too surprised to block it. The webbing hits her square in the face, covering her mouth and nose. Peter covers his own mouth in horror as Natasha’s face begins to turn red.

In the living room, Friday alerts the team that both Natasha and Peter are in distress. Tony shoots up from the couch, and Clint darts after him.

“Peter?!” Tony calls as he runs, terrified that Peter’s hurt himself. What he doesn’t expect is to see his kid sitting up in bed, face riddled with fear as he holds his weapon used hand out. Natasha is at Peter’s desk, trying to find something to cut herself free. She’s been trained to hold her breath for a long time, but she still has human limits.

“What the hell?” Clint says. Peter’s body is screaming, and he’s not sure if it’s him or Elijah that webs Natasha’s hands to the desk, freezing them into place.

“Peter,” Tony grabs his wrist, but Peter pushes him away. He needs to get out of here before--before he’s told to kill him too. He webs Tony’s hand to the side table, and he pulls at it, but it just pulls the wooden structure away from the wall. “Clint! Look for a knife in Peter’s desk. It’s able to cut webbing.”

_ Finish the job, Peter _ , Elijah commands. Peter looks around. He- he can’t.  _ Kill her! _ Peter actually cries out in pain as he feels like he’s been stabbed, and he curls inward, it only makes it worse, so he stretches back out. 

Clint is rummaging through his desk now, Natasha watching him nervously but with trust in her eyes. She trusts the team to protect her. And Peter tried to kill her. He sees Clint getting the knife, and his hand moves on its own again, his pure instincts for survival taking over his body.

Thor appears, grabbing onto Peter’s wrists and holding them up, so that the webs can only hit the ceiling. A ricochet web that Peter hadn’t even realized he’d switched to bounced off the ceiling, and Peter felt everything getting worse. His head was pounding so hard that he couldn’t even see the room clearly, everything obscured by pulsing black blotches. He sees an orange-ish light as Strange gets there, and his voice bounces around in Peter’s head.

Clint manages to cut a hole in the webbing around Natasha’s mouth, and she gasps in relief. Peter moans and thrashes in Thor’s grip, trying as hard as he can to break it. He almost does, actually. Thor just manages to adjust his strength to match the enhanced teenager, and the knowledge that he won’t be able to break free brings the pain to another level that Peter didn’t know existed.

He’s screaming, and every fiber of his body feels like it’s on fire, but also so stingingly ice-cold at the same time. Every movement makes it worse, but it’s so bad that he can’t stop moving. He wants to die. He hopes he does.

“Peter!” Tony tells, but it doesn’t break through the whining noise in his ears. He looks at Strange with fear for the kid. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know,” Strange strides across the room, setting a hand on Thor’s shoulder. Peter thinks Thor must be shocking him, or else why would every inch of him feel like it were being electrocuted constantly at the highest voltage on this planet?!  He bites down on his tongue to try and stop screaming, but it just draws blood. “I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s like he’s- oh god.” Strange’s eyes widen in realization.

“What?!” Tony asks.

“Possessed, Stark! He’s possessed,” Strange explains. He touches Peter’s forehead, and now that he’s looking for it, his hand burns with the dark magic. Strange backs away and opens a portal. “I need to figure out how. Keep him alive.”

“Stone!” Strange growls as he steps through the portal. The guards on the raft look up in shock, but Doctor Strange ignores them, looking at the smug face of Elijah Stone, standing casually on the other side of the glass. “What did you do?!”

"Took you long enough to figure it out,” Elijah muses. He looks at his hand, turning it over as if he has all the time in the world.

“How do I undo it?” Strange demands. Elijah shrugs.

“There are only about 3000 curses of this type known to us. I’m sure you can find it in there,” He chuckles. “But did you know… the human body can only take so much pain before the heart gives out? Tick tock, Doctor.”

Strange looks to the guards around him and raises his hands to make another portal. “I’ll be borrowing him for a moment.”

There’s a grunt of pain when Strange throws Elijah through the portal into Peter’s room. Thor is still pinning Peter to the bed, and the teenager’s writing in pain. He wants it to stop! He needs it to! But they don’t understand and they won’t let him up and he can’t breathe and- and-

Tony is near his head, trying to calm him by running a hand through his sweaty hair, but it just causes even more of his nerves to light up, and he  _ wails _ . Tony flinches at the noise, and it’s followed by another one that’s sounds almost inhuman.

“Look at him!” Strange demands, shouting to be heard over Peter’s screaming. “How do we fix it?!”

Elijah just smirks, and Tony pulls away from his kid to punch the man in the face. Stone gets to his hands and knees, still grinning a bloody, evil smile. Natasha cuts in, grabbing Stone by the hair.

“I know over 500 ways to kill someone, and I swear to god, if you don’t fix him _right_ _now_ , I’ll choose the most painful one and draw it out as long as I can,” She threatens. They wait for an answer, and Peter’s pained hiccups and gasps can be heard as he simultaneously tries to curl up and spread out at the same time. He can’t move. He can’t breathe. He can’t even think!

“He’s losing himself,” Elijah laughs, looking over at the convulsing teenager. “Some people go insane and then die. You can’t come back from that.”

Natasha grabs his arm, pulling it behind his back and digging her fingers as deep as she can into a nerve. He cries out in pain, but she doesn’t relent. “Undo it or I  _ will _ break your arm.”

Tony is in front of Elijah too, his repulsor lit up threateningly. Strange doesn’t try to stop him, but he joins in on the threat. “You know there are a million ways I could hurt you with magic  _ without  _ killing you, and then I can pass you off to Natasha here.”

Elijah looks between them, gauging his options. If he complies now, there may be another time. A time for revenge. If he dies… well… that’s that. Natasha twists his arm and pushes harder, forcing his decision.

Elijah begins mumbling words, and Strange is listening intently, making sure he doesn’t make the curse worse. Elijah’s eyes turn black as he speaks, and it’s only when they’ve turned back to their normal, green color that anything seems to change.

It feels like a bus has been lifted off of Peter’s chest, and he gasps. Moving still hurts. The thrashing hurt him, and he thinks it’s still Elijah. He lurches against Thor’s grip, but something is missing, and he doesn’t know what. He feels a stirring in his chest, and he rolls to the side. Thor lets him, surprisingly, and the teenager throws up onto the floor, acid irritating his throat as it comes up. He rolls back, and he doesn’t believe that the pain is coming back, so he keeps his eyes tightly shut and waits for more. He struggles weakly in Thor’s grip.

“He did it,” Strange breathes. Tony deactivates his gauntlet, rushing to Peter’s bedside. He carefully avoids the puddle of vomit. Peter’s sobbing, as the loss of pain is a pain in itself, and he feels empty. He is still hyperventilating when Tony’s hands cup his face, and words are being spoken, but he can’t understand them. He just leans into the cool hands against his burning skin. He coughs violently, and then the hands are leaving. He gasps and lurches, but Thor holds his shoulder in place. Tony crawls onto the bed from the foot of it, and he leans against the wall, gently pulling Peter from Thor’s grip.

“Shh. You’re okay. We got you. You’re okay, Pete,” Tony murmurs into his ear continuously, even as Peter continues to tremble violently. It takes a solid few minutes before he realizes who’s holding him.

“No,” He cries, voice hoarse. “Go… before I-“

“You won’t,” Tony assures. “You’re free. It’s done. Just breathe. Just breathe, kiddo.” Peter gasps and Tony pulls his head against his chest, putting his heart where he hopes Peter can hear it. His own heart rate is racing, but it should still ground the kid. Hands rub his hair and back reassuringly as Peter tries to breathe with shuddering breaths.

God… he’s exhausted. He didn’t- he doesn’t even know what to think. He just lets the tears from the pain and the guilt and regret stream down his face, mixing with the layer of sweat that covers his body. “I-is N-Nat-“

“She’s okay. You didn’t hurt her,” Tony promises. “Just take some deep breaths, okay?” Peter sobs in relief, curling inwards towards Tony, who cradles him closely.

“I’m right here, little Spider,” Nat chimes in, brushing his sticky hair off his forehead. Peter’s face twists, but he keeps his eyes shut.

“I’m sorry… I’m so... so sorry,” He manages to get out.

“I know. It wasn’t your fault, Peter. I forgive you. Just be a good boy and try to calm down, okay?” She grabs his hand, holding two of his fingers to her throat. “Focus on my pulse. I’m alive. It’s all okay now.”

Peter nods, curling up tighter in the touch of the two Avengers. He slowly goes limp as the exhaustion from the pain and the guilt that still makes him feel sick pull him closer to oblivion. Soon enough, the teenager passes out between the two Avengers, who make sure he’s calm and deep asleep before trying to get him back under the covers. There’s a layer of sweat on his body, but that’s something they can fix in the morning, when he’s a bit more recovered. The rest of the Avengers are still in the room, watching them.

“We’ll stay with him tonight,” Natasha promises. The others nod, leaving Tony and Natasha to take care of their little spider.

 


End file.
